


cloaked in leather

by lilibug



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Leather Jackets, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Southside Serpent Jughead Jones, Whyte Wrym, bughead - Freeform, southside serpents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 20:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12733935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilibug/pseuds/lilibug
Summary: Betty is cleaning out the attic with intentions of finding some of Alice's vintage clothes and maybe some old photos. She didn't expect to find her mother's old Serpent jacket, but... Betty makes it her own and uses it to surprise her boyfriend.





	cloaked in leather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [juggybetts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/juggybetts/gifts).



> Thanks to [kingmaker](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kingmaker/pseuds/kingmaker) ([strix](https://strix.tumblr.com)) for being my beta, as always, much much love to her. ❤

The light coming in through the window had broken into rays, clear defined streams of light. The dust in the air was highlighted there, floating like snow under a street light. Betty ran her hand through a beam, the sun lighting her skin and making her feel pleasantly warm and tingly. She pulled the blinds open, allowing the light to come festering in without restraint and illuminating the room. 

Cleaning out the attic had been more of a chore than Betty had anticipated. The space was dark despite the overhead light, but the light from the window did help. She surveyed the room, hands on her hips. 

There were stacks of boxes piled around the whole room, old furniture, bags, trunks  — she could go on.Turns out her mother, yes, Alice Cooper, was a _pack rat._ She could count on one hand the times she had ventured up here for something, including the short stint that Polly had hid here from their parents. Betty could have sworn it wasn’t bad up here, but then again, she hadn’t really been looking. Her mind had been so clouded with thoughts. 

It seemed like Alice didn’t like to throw anything out, perchance it might be useful one day. Of course, Betty didn’t have that revelation until after she had found things from her mother’s childhood up there. Papers Alice had written, journals, clothes, shoes, and old photos. They all seemed to hold sentimental value, but there was so much. 

And for all Betty was worth, she couldn’t ignore it. She had to go through it all. Otherwise, how effectively would she be doing her job? 

Now, her mother hadn’t expressly asked her to go through _everything_ , but rather that she was welcome to anything up there if she organized the space and decluttered it. Betty was on the hunt for some old photos of her parents in high school, as well as some of her mother’s vintage clothing items. She had always loved older things, the history and character of such items singing to her soul. 

So far she had found an old pair of high waisted acid wash shorts (bless her mother for being the same size then, as Betty is now) and red suede crop top littered with delicate fringe. There was also a prom dress tucked away in a fancy white box, and when she spread it out her heart swelled. The price tag was still tucked inside, and if she hadn’t seen the photo of Alice in the dress, she might have guessed it had never been worn.

Betty had taken pause, her fingers sifting through the layers of tulle and catching on what looked like cigarette burns on part of the underskirt. She was infinitely curious as to the situation that caused it. Her mother would never tell, however. It seemed that woman’s lips had been stitched shut. 

Folding the dress and placing it back in the box she moved it to where she had been sorting clothes. Betty had a whole pile of items to take downstairs with her. It was like going to an estate sale, her mind was churning with thoughts of the stories behind the items. Betty had always been inquisitive and she wondered if her mother was expecting her to come back with questions spilling from her lips. 

Alice was likely to withhold information; it was her specialty. Whether that was to preserve the idea of her perfect childhood (which she never spoke about) or something else, Betty wasn’t sure. 

Sitting cross legged on the floor, Betty continued with her sorting. Her nose was twitching from the plumes of dust that often arose when shifting boxes. She was still looking for something, her hands pulling her to reach further as if a specific goal in mind. 

The photos she found were great too. Most of them were duplicates from the photo albums downstairs, but there were a few hidden gems. Betty loved to see pictures of her parents in high school, they looked so young and carefree. The weight of the world and responsibilites yet to mold them into the faces with hard lines that she was familiar with. 

Sorting through a box of miscellaneous items, her fingers brushed the bottom, catching on a thick stack of paper. It was actually an envelope, the white paper crinkly and soft. Peering inside, Betty pulled out a big stack of photographs that had been had been banded with a dark red ribbon. Green eyes widened as she started to flip through them. 

They were of her mother and a group of surly looking boys. They had cigarettes dangling from their lips, greased back hair and leather jackets.  _Serpents_? Alice was smiling, laughing. The lines on her face soft with happiness, unlike the tension and anger she seemed to hold in all the others. It was obvious she was comfortable around them, arms slung around the shoulders of different boys who all towered over her petite mother. 

There was one photo in particular that had left her with a slack jaw, mouth gaping. Alice Cooper in a black leather jacket, looking over her shoulder at the camera. What shocked her the most was the two-headed Serpent embroidered on the back. The more Betty stared at this photograph the more her skin started to itch. This wasn’t just someone else’s jacket she had thrown on, it  _fit_ her. 

Betty’s fingertips traced the arm of the jacket, going over the hook of her mother’s elbow. She shook her head, thoughts rattling around in their cage. She flipped to the next photo and she found herself gazing at her mother standing next to a boy… no a  _man_. He had his arms looped around her waist, hers around his neck. They were smiling, pressed close, matching leather jackets. She brought the photograph closer, eyes taking in the details of the man. 

He was incredibly attractive, the strong set of his shoulders and lean cut of his jaw seemed familiar. He stood with an unimpressed swagger, even while holding onto her mother. Betty pulled a hand over her mouth, breath catching in her chest. She had been intimately familiar with a similar set of features for several years  — leather jacket included. 

It was FP Jones  — Jughead’s father. 

_Jughead’s_ _father_.

So many questions were swirling in her brain. She had the idea that there was plenty of things her mother wasn’t divulging about her past and now she knew why. Alice used to be a Southside Serpent. Not only that, but she used to be a Southside Serpent with none other than FP  _ Jones_; who had looked incredibly taken by her mother in that photograph. 

Betty had to lie down against the floorboard, her thoughts like wheels traveling a bumpy road. She was jumping and jolting, trying not to come to conclusions. But it was obvious now. 

Alice Cooper was so repressed of her childhood, so disembodied with the idea of the Southside, _because she had grown up there._

Her breath left her in deep exhale. She pulled herself back to sitting and wrapped the ribbon around the photographs. Those would be making their way to her room, for sure. Betty had placed the one of Alice, alone, in the jacket on top. She settled the bundle down ontop the pile of clothes she had set aside. A thought slammed into her brain loudly, taking her by surprise. 

_ Where was the jacket now? _

From all the evidence Betty had gathered, her mother didn’t seem to get rid of things, particularly if they meant something to her. Alice had kept these photographs, so where was the jacket? 

She bolted up, her eyes searching the space of the room where she had uncovered the prom dress. She walked over to the black trunk and popped the latches. Having already gone through the clothes, she knew it wasn’t there; but went ahead and pulled every piece out until she could see the bottom.

Betty sucked her lower lip between her teeth, chewing on it as her eyes raked over the trunk. Her fingers twitched out, a fingernail sliding between the edge of the bottom and the side. She lifted slightly, enough to wedge her finger in and then the whole bottom piece popped up and she lifted it from the trunk. 

Tucked underneath this duplicate bottom, was the jacket. Betty’s breath left her body in a sigh, her eyes prickling with tears. Why did her mother have to go to such lengths to hide things? Why was she so ashamed of her past? 

Betty pulled the jacket up, it was still perfect. It wasn’t a dark black, but worn and soft, almost grey. Her fingers ran over the creases, smoothing them out as she revived it’s pressed state. Turning it over in her hands, she gazed at the embroidered snake on the back. She had never been so close to one before. 

Jughead was always careful around her, taking his off whenever they were together. Or he simply wore one of his sherpa lined jackets that he had so many flavors of. 

Betty touched the dark yellow of the eyes, gliding over the shape the snake. She had only seen Jughead and FP with this variation of the patch. The others members having a round logo adorning their jackets. She wondered what unspoken rule this image portrayed. Why did her mother have this particular one? 

_ Was she FP’s girl _ ? 

It made more sense than Betty wanted it to. Her throat felt scratchy and dry, like she had swallowed a big lump of sand. She had to stop postulating scenarios that would otherwise remain unknown. Unless she went and asked FP… 

Could she?  _ Should _ she? 

Maybe she just needed to forget about all of this, tuck the jacket back in place and go downstairs with her small pile of treasures. 

Betty couldn’t, though. She had seen the jacket and the photographs and would never be able to forget the images of either. Instead, she turned the jacket back over and slid her arms through the sleeves, pulling it on. The leather was a nice weight, cool against the skin of Betty’s shoulders. The fit was perfect, hitting just at the waist of her shorts.

She walked to the old full length mirror tucked in the corner of the attic to check out the image reflecting back. However, she didn’t need to see herself to know how good it looked on her, she could _feel_ it. 

Betty’s lips quirked up into a smirk, her eyebrow raising as she appraised herself. She turned and looked over her shoulder towards the mirror. She was struck with the revelation of how much she looked like her mother, just then. It wasn’t a bad thing, in fact, she rather liked the look. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, hands smoothing down the front of her chest and playing with the edge of the zipper. 

She wanted to see who else liked it. 

***

It was dark and stormy out, lightning flashing across the sky and providing bouts of clarity between booming thunder. It warm and humid, but the droplets of rain were chilly against her bare legs. The air felt charged with electricity, much like the sky. 

Betty pulled the clear plastic rain coat tighter around her as she narrowly avoided a murky puddle on the sidewalk. Luckily the black, chunky heeled ankle boots she was wearing wouldn’t get ruined by water. 

As she got closer to her destination, she could hear the rumble from inside; rock music, people playing pool, buzzing conversation. She ducked into the alley right next door, leaning up against the side of the building, closing her eyes. Betty took several calming breaths in effort to slow her erratically beating heart. 

The last time she had done something even remotely similar was with Chuck Clayton in sophomore year. For one thing, that was fake and she was doing it to expose him for vile pig he is; two, that was over four years ago. You’d think she would have grown in time, more confident and self assured. But, Betty felt more nervous now than ever. It was ridiculous.

Maybe it had to do with the fact that she was getting ready to go into the Whyte Wyrm when she was still underage. It was the Southside Serpents bar, where they all hung out at seemingly all hours of the day. Though it was common knowledge the bar would serve underage Serpents and their guests.  

No, she knew it wasn’t that. 

Shaking her head, Betty stood at the edge of the dark alley. Pressed her back close against the wall, and pulled the hood from her head. Running her fingers through her hair gently, she sighed in relief. Luckily the blonde strands hadn’t gotten wet, or this whole thing would have been ruined if she showed up looking like a drowned rat. 

Betty had spent 30 minutes curling her hair into soft waves and then another good chunk of time carefully applying her make-up. It was dark to go with her outfit; smoky eyeshadow and black liner with a plum lipstick. 

Untying the raincoat she folded the thin jacket as small as she could, shaking the rain drops off it. She had worn a cross body purse just big enough for her wallet, cellphone and this plastic coat to be stuffed inside. Betty checked the time on her phone briefly, it was almost ten pm, so she knew she wasn’t going to be expected inside.

She bit her lower lip intentionally, chewing on it carefully and then running her index finger along her teeth to make sure no color transferred. Turning the corner, she walked briskly up the two steps leading to the bar. Hesitating for a few seconds, she finally pulled on the metal handle. 

Slipping inside the door, Betty let it fall closed as she put on a sultry, confident smirk. She had to work it here, _fake it till you make it,_ popping into her head as she sauntered through the room and up to the bar. 

Many had turned their heads to her, but she didn’t look, didn’t pull her gaze from the older bartender. She perched herself delicately on a black leather stool, crossing her lean legs over one another. Placing a hand with nails painted the same color as her lips, against the bar, she spoke. 

“Gin and tonic, extra lime. Please,” Betty gave the bartender who was eyeing her a smile, head tilting as she leaned forward slightly. His eyes dipped down to her chest before popping back up with a gruff nod, and started her drink. 

She wasn’t quite up to ordering the “dirty vodka martini” that Veronica has suggested via texting earlier. Mostly because she wasn’t sure she’d even like it and that would be embarrassing. A gin and tonic was perfectly fine  — it’s not like she was here to impress someone. Actually, Betty was here to lay a trap.

The bartender set the drink down in front of her, a trio of lime wedges on the rim. She plucked two of them up and squeezed the juices into the glass before dropping them in. Bringing the glass to her lips she took a drink, the sour lime and bitter gin already mellowing her frazzled nerves. 

She sighed a thank you to the bartender, one elbow on the bar top. Swiveling a bit in her seat so that she could look out to the rest of the bar, she tried not to choke on her next sip. Everyone was looking at her, whether it be inconspicuously or blatant staring. Serpents of all ages, even the girls hanging onto their guys were looking at her curiously.

They were surely all wondering who the girl in the leather Serpent jacket was, why they had never seen her before, and why she had _that_ logo on her back.

The heat of everyone’s stares were burning her up, but Betty managed casual indifference. Sipping her drink, she glanced around. Spotting a group of younger Serpents around a table tucked in the corner, she discreetly looked them over. They were right by the staircase that lead to the upper level. Which she knew to house an office, kitchenette, and several rooms for Serpents. 

Her green eyes trailed over them, Betty recognized Sweet Pea and Fangs (despite having never met them, officially), but not guy sitting with them. Sweet Pea kept glancing up at her, probably trying to pick apart who she was. She just tilted her head with a smile in that direction, taking another sip of her drink. Betty saw him lean up to a kid sitting on the staircase directly above them, whispering something to the boy. Curiously, he shot up the stairs after looking over at her. 

“That’s a pretty little jacket, girl, who’d you have to suck off to get that?” a vulgar shout in her ear, followed by the stench of cheap beer. Betty reeled back, away from the man who had invaded her personal space. Pressing her side into the bar she curled her lip up at him, hugging her drink close to her chest. He was older, wearing a denim jacket with no patch on the back nor snake tattoo visible anywhere. _Jealous?_ Her mind questioned. 

She suddenly felt more self-aware of her bare legs and the skin of her stomach on display in the old outfit of her mother’s that she had put on earlier. 

“Excuse me, _sir_ , but I think you’re drunk. Maybe you should try some water instead,” her voice was calm and steady, despite the inkling of fear that was creeping up her spine. 

His blackened hands brazenly pulled at one of the delicate red fringes of her crop top, tugging it. She slapped his hand away with a fierce glare. 

“Please, leave me alone. I’m not interested,” Betty said harshly, with gritted teeth. She set her drink down on the bar incase she needed both hands. However, she didn’t think the Serpents would just sit idly by and let someone put their hands all over a woman. They wouldn’t stand for that. 

“Oh, you’ll be saying please alright. Please fu — ” 

“That’s enough, Rod. The lady here isn’t interested.” 

Betty glanced to Sweet Pea who had come to her rescue, his hand gripping Rod’s wrist tightly from where it had been trying to land on her legs. His hair was falling in his eyes and she could see the hard set of his jaw. She was thankful as he pulled the man away with little effort. 

Sighing, she picked up the rest of her drink of downed it one gulp. Clenching her eyes shut, she sucked on a piece of lime for a sour distraction. Licking her lips afterward, she looked to where Sweet Pea was leaning against the bar next to her now. 

Betty tapped her fingers along the wood, one finger tracing the watermark made by her glass. 

“Did he know you were coming here?” 

Blinking at Sweet Pea, Betty shook her head slightly. He was looking at her, eyes careful not to glance toward her legs which were on display so close to him. She discreetly tucked them under the bar a little (more for his sake, than hers), turning towards the wall of liquor. 

“No.” 

“He’s gonna be pissed… and where  _did_ you get the jacket?” his eyes strayed to the Serpent on the back that even he didn’t have. 

“Let's just say it's a family heirloom.” 

They were talking like they knew each other, but this was their first meeting. All information was third party privy. She didn’t interact or hardly go to the Southside because he always told her how dangerous it was, that he didn’t want her involved in any of that part of her life.

She felt otherwise, and had been looking for a way in. She’d found it in the leather jacket that was covering her, the sleeves pushed up on her arms, showing delicate wrists. The red suede fringe crop top showed off the skin of her shoulders underneath the leather and a wide stip of pale smooth skin above the waist of her acid wash shorts. 

“It suits you.” 

Betty felt a swell of pride in her chest at his words. She had been a little scared wearing it in here, thoughts of everyone yelling at her to take it off had entered her mind once or twice.

“Thanks,” she signaled to the bartender that she’d like another drink. The older man made her one quickly, sliding it down the bar at her and she grasped the smooth glass in one hand. 

“How did you know?” Her voice was quiet, and she wasn’t sure Sweet Pea heard her over the noise in the bar. 

“Come on, Betty. Do you think he doesn’t talk about you?” 

Her heart started hammering in her chest, palms turning sweaty. Taking a big gulp of her drink, she licked her lower lip. Glancing away from the other boy with a shrug of her leather covered shoulders. 

“Yeah, Betty, do you think I don’t talk about you?” 

Her eyes closed at the low, husky voice against her left ear. Warm breath tickled her skin, causing gooseflesh to break out all over her arms. The scent of cigarettes, pine and paper combined with the leather of his jacket clouding her senses as he leaned into her. The middle of his chest pressing right into her shoulder. 

His large hand planted itself firmly on her lower back and she could feel the heat of his skin even through her jacket. 

“I don’t know. I guess not,” she spoke softly, staring straight ahead. Betty didn’t notice the silent exchange that must be happening between the two, but she knew Sweet Pea had left. The arm on her back snaked around her waist, pulling her to closer to him as he sat on the stool to her left. 

“Really?” his voice questioned, a thumb reaching up and brushing blonde waves back from her cheek, tucking them loosely behind her ear. Betty could see him in her peripheral vision and instead of turning to him, she looked down at her glass. 

“I didn’t think you would talk about me here, since you didn’t want me involved.” 

Her fingers ran around the rim, she had left the three lime wedges on the rim. Picking one up she squeezed it into the glass, dropping it in. 

“Hey,” his thumb and forefingers captured her chin in his grasp, turning her head to look at him. His other hand had turned her body a little on the swivel seat so that she was angled toward him. 

His blue eyes were hard to read but the rest of him… 

“I talk about you _all the damn time_ , everyone’s kind of sick of it. Just because I don’t want you down here, don’t want you familiar with faces that people associate as criminals, doesn’t mean that I also don’t want them to know that _you are mine_ ,” The words sent a shiver down her spine, and she bit her lower lip briefly. His thumb still on her chin pulled on it, dragging it down as he leant forward. 

Betty felt her eyes fluttering closed in anticipation, but he didn’t kiss her, not yet. She opened her eyes when his hand fell away from her face to rest on her knee that was pressing against his. He was downing the rest of her gin and tonic, and she frowned at him.  

“That was mine,” Betty couldn’t help the pout on her lips. 

“My bar, my drink. I’ll get you another,” and he flashed his hand at the bartender who finished the drink he was making quickly, jumping on the new order. 

“Jughead,” she said sternly, and his blue eyes flashed toward her, a piece of ice crunching between his teeth. He set the glass down, leaning back against the bar. One elbow was resting on the bartop and the other tucked against his side. The palm of his hand was resting on her thigh now, instead of her waist. His thumb was drawing rhythmic circles against her skin, brushing underneath the edge of her shorts. 

“Betty.” 

She was about to huff when her drink was set in front of her and to spite him, Betty downed the whole thing, slamming it back down on the bar. She took a deep breath, watching his eyes as they narrowed on her lips and her pink cheeks that felt even hotter under his gaze. 

“I think that’s enough.” 

Betty wanted to protest, but Jughead was right. She had about two and half drinks now and her skin was definitely feeling tingly and her cheeks were flushed all on their own. She gave a little shrug, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Is this Alice’s jacket?” 

Her eyebrows rose in response. “It’s mine now.” 

He gave a little chuckle, lips quirking up into a lopsided smirk. She wanted to frown at that, her hands itching to reach out and grab his face like he did hers and make that smirk fall away. 

“Why is that so funny?” 

“Betty, do you have any idea what that jacket means? If you keep that, let alone keep wearing it…” 

“I’m going too,” Betty said suddenly, tone sharp. She meant the words; she wasn’t going to let Jughead hide this part of his life from her anymore. “I want to be here, Jug. I want to know your friends, I want to know _this you_.” 

This Jughead didn’t wear the beanie over his mop of unruly dark hair. It spilled over his face and his hands were constantly brushing it back. This Jughead still had the dark bruises under his eyes, but those baby blues were darker, harder, and had an edge of danger. This was the Jughead that wore the Serpents leather jacket, the crown ring on his middle finger, the knife tucked into the side of his boot. 

His eyes had softened somewhat at her words, but his lips pulled down into a concerned frown. Betty placed a finger against his lips, stopping him from the cries of protest that were about to fall. 

“Let me have this, Jug. It could be good for us.” 

“Ok,” was his response, his hand reaching up and taking her wrist in his, bringing it to his chest and sliding it down to rest against the right side of his ribcage. That was where his snake tattoo had been inked on him, the double sided snake winding up his side. Betty squeezed him there, the thought of her own snake tattoo thrilling her. 

She smiled at Jughead, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against his lips. Betty’s teeth grazed his lower lip gently, tugging against it as her hands fell to his thighs, gripping him tightly. She leant forward, slanting her mouth against him more fully, sighing happily into his mouth as Jughead’s hand slide into her hair, cradling her head. 

Jughead pulled back from her lips, pressing his forehead against hers. His hand slid from her hair to cup her cheek, fingers pressing in along the curve of her jaw holding her tightly. Betty opened her eyes, green and blue staring into each other. 

He leant forward, paving kissing along her jaw and up to her ear as he tilted her head in his hand. Jughead paused at her ear, his teeth catching her lobe and nibbling on it, his breath fanning over her neck and sending delightful waves of heat straight to her groin. 

“This jacket looks fucking amazing on you, baby.” 

Betty smiled, her eyes opening and darting around to where everyone in the bar was pointedly trying to ignore them now. They had their attention so fixed on her before, but not with Jughead’s display of affection they knew they were playing with fire. 

“Wouldn’t you like to see me in nothing but this jacket, Juggie?” she whispered the words against his ear, as both her hands slid higher on his thighs until his hand on her leg shot out to still her movements. He growled into her ear, his tongue flicking against her lobe before tugging on it with his teeth again.

“You want to go back to the trailer?” 

“I want to go upstairs.” 

Jughead pulled back from the delicious torture he was putting her ear through, her body absolutely buzzing with alcohol and arousal. 

“Are you sure you’re not drunk?” His words were teasing and light, though there was concern in his eyes.

Betty still had clarity of her thoughts though, despite the drinks she had downed. So she shook her head, a hand coming up to fist in his t-shirt, tugging him toward her. They kissed in a tangle of heated open mouthed kisses, her tongue searching for his and moaning into his mouth. 

Jughead pulled her back, hand on her chin and holding her face still as he looked her over. Betty’s chest was threatening to start heaving, the want in her belly had started as a slow fire and was now starting to grow wild. 

Her lipstick must have been smudged because she could see a hint of the color that had transferred over to Jughead’s lips. He was still looking at her with uncertainty, before a wash of decision flooded him and he tugged her to stand. 

Jughead pulled her through the bar towards the staircase and they passed the table with his friends who were all wearing matching smirks. Sweet Pea had given him this nod of appreciation, or perhaps a “have fun with your girl” gesture as he crossed his arms over his chest. Fangs did a low wolf whistle as they started up the stairs, making Betty giggle. 

He pulled her into what looked like the office, shutting the door behind them and sliding the lock into place. Betty fiddled with the zipper of her jacket as she stood in the middle of the room, surveying the desk and the couch quickly before Jughead stalked toward her. 

He lifted her up with his arms around her thighs, her own wrapping around his neck as he set her down on the desk. With a dramatic flourish he pushed everything from the top off and to the floor.  Piles of paper, an old coffee mug, binders, notebooks, and various other things clattered to the floor. 

Her eyebrows rose and as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his pants, Betty spoke, “That was very dramatic.” 

“I’ve always wanted to do that, Betts.” He grinned boyishly at her, and it made her laugh. She swatted his belly with her hand before biting her lip and scratching her nails against him as she fingered the button of his jeans.

“Juggie…” 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“I want you to make love to me in nothing but my leather jacket.” 

Betty felt his shudder under her fingertips, his abdominal muscles quaking under the press of her hand. Jughead cupped his hands around her cheeks, leaning into her and forcing her head to tilt back to look at him. He smoothed his hand through her hair, tugging on it. His lips pressed to the side of her forehead, down to her ear, then under the hollow of her jaw. 

He paved a path of kisses down the column of her neck, tongue dipping into the space under her collarbone. Jughead nipped at her skin, teeth grazing just above her breast. She yelped a little, a hand reaching up to thread through his hair as he worked himself down her body until he was kneeling in front of her. 

Together they worked the high waisted shorts off, as well as her boots, Jughead flinging them somewhere over his shoulder. His hungry eyes stared down at the dark red lacy underwear she was wearing. He licked his lips, a hand pushing on her belly, encouraging her to lay flat on the desk. 

Betty eased herself back and immediately Jughead yanked her forward, his hands curving under her thighs and bringing his mouth down on her. His breath was warm against her, his nose nudging the dampness on her underwear. 

“Baby, you’re so wet for me,” he groaned, mouth slotting over her, his tongue pressing into her through the fabric. 

“Yes, Juggie, please,” her breath was coming out in short pants, Betty’s hands fisting in Jughead’s dark locks and trying to bring him closer. 

Jughead pressed a kiss above her clit, fingers hooking under the waistband and dragging the fabric down her legs. He knelt back and helped lift her legs, dropping the underwear to the side. Jughead lifted one of her legs above his shoulder, hooking her knee around him. 

Betty let her head fall against the desk as a moan erupted from her lips. The feeling of Jughead’s hot breath fanning across her sensitive skin making her start to squirm. His hands held her hips steady, “Relax, baby,” his words barely registered before he was sliding his tongue against her, against her slit gently before he used a hand to open her legs further, spreading her obscenely wide.

Her fingernails were scratching against the desk by the time Jughead finally worked his way around her clit. Betty sucked in a breath as his mouth closed around her, sucking gently. Jughead was working his tongue around her in circles. She felt the press of his fingers hard on her hips to control her jerky movements. 

Jughead pulled back and kissed the seam of her leg and pelvis, nipping the skin there, biting and sucking, in order to leave a mark. Betty had threaded a hand through his dark locks, tugging him back towards her pussy. 

He chuckled at her, bringing his lips back to kiss her outer folds, tongue snaking around her entrance. 

Betty couldn’t help her whine of, “Juggie.” 

He hummed against her, tongue slipping inside her and thrusting gently. Betty moaned, her hand tightening in his hair, her leg over his shoulder pulling him closer. 

Jughead pulled back a little, kissing the skin of her thigh. “Easy.” 

She relaxed her leg and sighed, trying to do the same for all her muscles. The fire in her belly was building, her limbs feeling warm and tingly all over. Jughead’s tongue, when he pressed it back against her clit, was sending sparks up her spine, stoking the fire. 

Jughead brought a hand down from her hip and slipped two fingers into her. Betty gasped at the intrusion, her thighs starting to shake. When Jughead curled his fingers inside her, rubbing them in a ‘come hither’ motion she couldn’t even speak as her voice stalled in her throat. 

Her orgasm hit her hard, her eyes rolling back as she clenched her hands against the edge of the desk. The warmth flooded her veins like a tidal wave, Betty’s toes curling as she rocked her hips against Jughead’s face and fingers. 

He continued to swirl his tongue around her clit, laving it with attention as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. Betty let out another whine, her fingers threading through Jughead’s hair and tugging, trying to pull him away. 

“No,” he murmured against her clit, sucking gently. 

“Juggie, please. I can’t, not again...” 

“Yes you can, baby. Let me take care of you.” 

Take care of her, he did. Betty felt herself rock against him, his fingers rubbing against her and making obscenely wet sounds. She bit her lip when Jughead brought a hand to her chest, palming her breast through the fabric of her top. He found her nipple, pinching gently between his thumb and forefinger.  

Betty gasped, her head rolling to the side. She peeked an eye open and glanced down to where Jughead’s face was buried between her thighs. His baby blues were staring up at her, through long lashes, gaze intense and dark. She shuddered, his name falling from her lips as she tipped into another peak. 

Jughead worked her through it, his hands and mouth leaving her this time when she squeezed him with her leg. 

He stood up between her legs, and Betty brought herself up to her elbows. Jughead threw his jacket toward the couch in the corner of the room and then pulled his white t-shirt off with one hand. She scanned the well defined planes of his chest that even though she was familiar with, always surprised her. Betty watched his long fingers drag the fly of his pants down slowly and she licked her lips. 

Sitting up, Betty pulled her own jacket off, for a minute, in order to pull the red fringed top off and toss it to the floor. She slid the leather back on, and it was cool against her heated back. She was shoving the sleeves up a bit when Jughead’s hand caught her wrist, bringing her attention up to him. 

They were both bare, save for her jacket, now. Air seemed like it was filled with stagnant electricity, buzzing and sizzling between them as they simply stared at each other. 

“Juggie…” 

Her voice broke him, finally, and Jughead surged forward pressing his mouth against hers while slotting himself between her thighs. Betty felt the press of his hard cock against her belly, and she leaned into him, fingers digging into the muscles just above his hips. They kissed open mouthed, sloppy and rushed, their breaths coming out between them in pants as their hands roamed the bare skin of each other. 

Finally, Jughead pulled away from her lips, kissing up her jaw to her ear. He was leaning forward against her, pushing her down into the desk with his chest. Betty’s arms encircled his neck, letting lower her gently. Jughead sucked on her earlobe, a spark of pleasure shooting down her spine, her legs pulling up and winding around slim hips in response. 

“Betty, baby, I love you.” 

“I love you, too, Jughead.” 

Warm lips kissed the side of her neck before drawing back, Betty letting her arms fall from his neck to raise above her head. Her finger gripped the edge of the desk, back arching as Jughead held her hips in one hand and thrust into her. 

A strangled moan fell from from her lips, her eyes squeezing tightly shut at the fullness of him inside her. Betty could feel every inch of him  — she loved being on the pill and not having to use a condom. 

Jughead whispered her name in a soft groan, his hips starting to move against her. Both of his hands cupping the underside of her legs, holding her hips tilted towards him. Betty sighed as pleasure coursed through her, back arching from the desk and her hips canting up to meet Jughead’s. 

They were were soft and gentle tonight, despite the intensity of the situation. Betty loved it when they made love slowly, the pleasure building more intensely from the intimate act. 

Hands slid from her thighs and hips up and over the smooth skin of her belly. Fingers tickled her ribcage lightly, Betty could feel where Jughead was circling the crown tattoo and she gotten inked onto her ribs. Biting her lip, she arched her back further, moan falling from her lips as his fingernails scratched down her sides. 

“Yes, _please_ ,” she wasn’t even sure what she was begging for.

Jughead’s hands palmed her breasts, squeezing gently before rolling her nipples between his fingers. Betty pressed her head into the desk, fingers clenching the wood as she stuttered out his name. Hearing Jughead’s low groan of appreciation, she felt his hips snap harder into her, his pelvis fitting tightly against her before he pulled back and did it again. 

He was pressing just right against her and she called out with a yelp, “right there, _oh_ , right there, baby,” her head swaying from side to side as she felt her pussy start to clench around Jughead’s cock. 

He was thrust into her harder, faster, as his hands moved back to grip her hips. Betty’s hands flew down her chest to cup her breasts in his absence.

Betty felt the pleasure roll in waves over her, gentle and rushing roar all at once. She let Jughead’s name fall from her lips like a mantra, her fingers circling her clit as Jughead rocked against her. Betty’s legs tightened around his waist, drawing him closer, her skin tingling as she let herself fall over the edge. 

Jughead’s hips stilled against her as she was trying to catch her breath. His hands gripped her harder, angling her hips up even more as he thrust against her several times before shuddering. His hips rocking into her, as her name fell from lips, “Betty...” like a sigh. She felt him inside her, the rush of hot liquid burning her up in a pleasant way. 

Betty's heart was aching for him as she reached up to pull him down to her. He met her in a kiss that conveyed the love she was feeling; all sweet, warm, and passionate. She smiled against his lips, thankful that wanting to clean out the attic on her day off of classes had turned out the way it did. She wouldn’t trade it for the world, the love she felt for Jughead  — Southside Serpent or not. 

***

Betty woke slowly, the stillness of the air and quiet of the room jarring her. She normally slept with a fan on and her tv running in the background. The noise was comforting and didn’t make her feel so alone. Here, it was unnervingly quiet. 

The only thing she was aware of was Jughead’s body pressed against her back, his arm hanging over her waist and his soft snores into the back of her head. She breathed out a sigh, wishing to go back to sleep, but knowing she wouldn’t be able too.

The room was shrouded in darkness, faint light coming through the dark window curtains. At some point they had moved from the office to one of the bedrooms. The bed they had fallen into was comfortable, despite Jughead’s chin pressing into her skull. 

Slipping quietly out from under him, Betty sat up on the edge of the bed. Looking around she saw that their clothes hadn’t quite made the trip and that was more embarrassing than anything. She didn’t want to think back on how they scampered from the office to here, naked, with a bar full of people downstairs. 

Her eyes scanned the solitary item on the bedside table, the numbers telling her it was still too early to be awake. Betty eyed the closet across from her and glanced back at Jughead who was still sound asleep. Padding across the floor, she slid the door open, unsurprised to find a collection of Jughead’s wardrobe hanging inside. Betty figured he stayed here more than the trailer most nights anymore. 

Pulling a blue and black plaid flannel off a hanger, she slipped it on and fastened every button except for the very top. It fell to mid thigh so she decided it was alright to walk out into the hall. She was still sans undergarments, but she was crossing her fingers this would just be a quick trip to the kitchenette. 

In the hallway, it was dark. The lights downstairs were off, only the glow of the neon ‘CLOSED’ sign reflecting up the staircase. She pulled back from the railing and padded by the office. Betty would have liked to retrieve her clothes, but maybe she would make Jughead do it later, lest someone be inside. 

She found the coffee pot in the sink, still with old coffee in it. 

“Men,” she grumbled. 

Giving it a quick wash, Betty found the coffee grounds in the refrigerator and went ahead and pulled out the carton of creamer, too. She stifled a yawn as she measured out the grounds and filled the carafe with water. 

“Good morning, Betty.” 

She fumbled with the carafe, spilling water over the edge of the machine and managing to splash the front of her shirt. She took a slow breath and steadied her hands as her heart rate slowed back down.  

“Good morning, FP,” she finished her task, setting the coffee to brew and searched for a towel to wipe the spill on the counter. 

“So…coffee?” 

Betty smiled at his offer of smalltalk, despite the fact that he clearly knew what she and Jughead had done last night. Not to mention her state of dress. She was comfortable around him though and had it been anyone else she would have done the walk of shame back to Jughead’s room. 

“Yep, coffee. It’s really quiet here, when the bar isn’t open, I couldn’t stay asleep,” she gave a small shrug and turned around to face him, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms over her chest. 

FP had sat himself at the small round table tucked into the corner of the room, his own arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah, it is. Although, _I_ like it.” he gave her a smile, nodding to the chair. 

She gladly took the seat, tucking her legs underneath the table and resting her arms on on top. 

“Seems like you guys spend a lot of time here,” Betty fingered the sleeve of her flannel, watching as FP ran a hand over the scruff of his beard. 

“Yeah, well Jughead more than me. It’s embarrassing to live with your old man in a two bedroom trailer, didn’t you know?” He was grinning despite the flicker of sadness she could see reflected in his dark eyes. 

“I’m sure it’s just a matter of personal space. Although I hadn’t realized he had pretty much moved in here.” 

“It’s been a while. He didn’t say anything?”

Betty shook her head, index finger scratching against the table lightly. Jughead typically refused to talk about anything happening on the Southside. That was going to change _real_ quick. 

“No, he didn’t. But to be fair, I didn’t ask.” 

“Betty…” 

“So, you probably heard about last night, right?” She didn’t want to talk about her and Jughead’s issues with communication, she wanted to talk about the jacket. 

“The jacket, you mean?” His eyebrows rose and she noticed him shift in the chair. 

“Yes, Alice’s jacket, well mine now, but yes the jacket,” Betty didn’t miss the small smile that crossed his lips when she staked her claim. 

“I know you want the who, what, when, why, and where, but… it’s not my story to tell. All I can say is yes, Alice was a Serpent before she and Hal married. She lived on the Southside.” 

“... and the patch?” Betty wanted more, and she knew she was going to have to sit down with her mom after this. 

“The patch… it’s can be a sign of authority and protection,” He wasn’t giving much away here and Betty had to bite her tongue to stop herself from being crass. 

“Protection… for a loved one?” 

He sighed, pinching the the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. She felt a pang of regret at causing him frustration. 

“Yes. Now it’s yours, so don’t do what Alice did and fall for a Northsider and break Jughead’s heart, ok?” 

Betty felt tears prick her eyes for multiple reasons. For FP’s pain he must have suffered, for him thinking she could possibly ever leave Jughead, and for her mother. Alice who had turned her back on her family, those who raised her  — for love and for a different life. Alice must have spent her adult years hating the Southside because of what _she _ did to _them_. A mask of hatred and anger was far easier to keep up. 

“Never, FP. I love Jughead, and I love you, too. I like the Serpents, I’ve fought for them. They’re my family.”  

FP smiled at her, and she couldn’t help but see that same boyish grin that she was familiar with in Jughead. One that was rare but heartfelt, a sign of happiness in a man that had been through more struggles than he should have for a small town like Riverdale. 

When the coffee was done brewing, Betty poured FP and herself a cup, and then one for Jughead. Saying her goodbyes she padded back to their room to find Jughead stretched out on his back, chest still rising and falling in a steady manner. She set his cup down on the nightstand and sat carefully down on the bed. Tucking her feet underneath her and pulling the duvet over her legs, Betty sipped her coffee. She leant back against the headboard and closed her eyes, Jughead’s soft snores making her feel calm and relaxed. She was at home. 

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr! : [lilibug--xx](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lilibug--xx)


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